The Waiting Game
by xXCharmed by his smileXx
Summary: A short fic about Booth's time in the army. Booth contemplates his actions as a sniper. Kinda angsty. NOW COMPLETE! PLEASE REVIEW!


The Waiting Game

Booth Pre-Series

Disclaimer: I don't own Bones or Seeley Booth. If I did do you think he would have dated **Cam**? I think NOT!

A/N: This is my first fanfiction so please don't be too harsh! All constructive critisism is appreciated, even if it's just to say you didn't like it. Any advice on how to make my writing better would be great too. So on with the story.

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The sun burned down on the inch of exposed skin on the back of Seeley Booth's neck as he lay on the top of the old stone building waiting for his target. 

Yes, target.

Seeley Booth was a sniper. Someone, who if people ever found out what he did, would avoid his eyes or cross the street to avoid bumping into him and tainting themselves. A person who mothers shielded their children from and who fathers called names after. But Booth was … well …, not used to it, he just found he didn't care about it as much as he did before. After doing this job for a while, you managed to distance yourself from everything. Cut yourself out of life just so the fact of killing another person didn't drive you insane. Even the other guys back at camp would call him names behind his back, some even to his face. They were fighting a war. They only killed when they needed to, and Booth was an assassin. A government paid assassin. He kept secrets about his military life from everyone, even his family who tried to accept what he did, but who he knew were praying that his soul didn't burn in hell. Booth pulled back from his memories, wiping a hand over his face to clear the sweat that had accumulated there in his three hour waiting game. The summer's day was still beating down with a fiery heat, although it had cooled considerably since earlier. He accepted the canteen held out to him from the only other person there with him on the rooftop. Jake Holloway was a spotter. He looked for the target to come into view and he checked when they fell, never to get back up again. He and Booth were a good team although out of the job they didn't have much contact. Booth had a feeling that Holloway didn't want to be near him either unless he had to. Booth didn't much mind, he was pretty much a loner. Don't make friends with anyone, and then you didn't have anyone to lose. Because chances were, you would lose someone.

Handing the canteen back, Booth resumed his spot, the cold of the stone-covered roof contrasting with the heat he felt on his back from the late afternoon sun. Pressing his eye back to the gun, Booth watched the door of the house across the way open. A man exited. Booth recognised his face as though they had been friends for years. This was their man. The target. He was short, with lanky brown hair that hung around his face. His belly hung out over two-size too small jeans, his shirt billowing out in the early dusk breeze. If Booth hadn't seen what this man was capable of, he would never have believed that he was a mass murderer. Killed mothers and children, tortured fathers and destroyed whole villages in one foul sweep. Reaching into an inside pocket, the man pulled out a packet of cigarettes, before lighting one and taking a long drag.

Booth lined up, the scope focussing on the spot between the man's two eyes. He double checked his position. There was to be no risk of error. This man had killed hundreds, maybe thousands of people, there was no way he could be allowed to live. That was where Booth was called in. His orders had come from high up in the government, they needed the best. Booth was one of the best. He was by no means proud of that fact. In fact when Booth had signed up he had had no intention of being a sniper but the supervisors had found out he was pretty good with a rifle and had decided that that's where his skills would be best put to the test. Just wanting to serve his country, Booth had agreed.

Booth steadied his breathing; one heartbeat could move the direction of the bullet. That couldn't happen. He gave it a moment to slow down to a steady speed, almost as if he was sleeping. It only took seconds. The man didn't move. Made no unconscious attempt to prolong his life by a couple of minutes.

Booth pulled the trigger.

The shot ran out.

The man fell to the ground.

A scream rang out piercing the quiet air like a thunder crack.

"He's down. Clear." Holloway confirmed it.

Thirty kills. Another piece of his soul ripped to shreds.

Booth didn't know how much longer he could do this. He could feel it with each shot. A piece of him was dying inside. Pieces of his soul were being shredded off and dropped like an empty bullet casing with every shot he took. He only hoped that he got out of the army with enough of his soul intact that it was possibly to carry on living. Try to go back to his normal life, where he dated girls, had a job and spent time with his family. Not where he killed people for a living. He yearned to just put down the gun, turn around and get on the first flight home. But he couldn't do that. He had to continue doing his job here. Hoping that if he could do some good, he could leave here with his head high. With his soul intact, not that of a broken man. At this rate though, he wasn't sure.

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A/N: Please review and tell me what you think! 

Lee


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